


Fall With You (Again)

by cuttlemefish



Series: Fought in a Battle Nobody Won [1]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Demon Yuuri, Knight Viktor, M/M, Prince Christophe, Supernatural - Freeform, alchemist phichit, chistophe and viktor are former lovers, princess mila, random scenes told in a series, viktor is hungry for power and yuuri is his personal demon intent on helping him take over the world, viktuuri
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-21 03:56:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21293234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuttlemefish/pseuds/cuttlemefish
Summary: Hurt after the announcement of a marriage between Prince Christophe and Princess Mila, Knight Viktor Nikiforov confides in the royal alchemist Phichit about his interest in conjuring a demon for his personal use (without sharing the particulars of his very special interest in the assistance of the supernatural). He does not expect to be successful, much less to accidentally offer his soul to a demon only too eager to comply and join their fates togther for eternity. Viktor wouldn't mind so much, if it wasn't that he has no need for a beautiful demon, not when it's war he's after.First in a series of stories detailing the efforts of Knight Viktor Nikiforov to take over the Giacometti kingdom (and maybe the world) with the assistance of his beautiful demon Yuuri.
Relationships: Christophe Giacometti/Victor Nikiforov, Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Mila Babicheva & Christophe Giacometti, Mila Babicheva/Sara Crispino, Phichit Chulanont/Christophe Giacometti
Series: Fought in a Battle Nobody Won [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1534994
Comments: 28
Kudos: 165





	Fall With You (Again)

**Author's Note:**

> The story will be told as a series because I'm lazy and have figured out I'm just going to write this in snippets for my own personal amusement, which means you should check for warnings and tags and additional characters as the series continues (with knowledge that there will be different ratings as well). So, if you'd like to see more, keep a eye on the series. :) 
> 
> You can find me at: CuttleMeFishWrites (Tumblr) or CMFWritings (Twitter). Comments are the best way to inspire me to keep working on something.

Legend says that a beautiful, although very poor woman plotted to marry into a very rich family. She succeeded at great personal expense, as her husband was as disfigured as he was rich, with a fiery temper that threatened to consume them all with the embers of his own insecurity. But she was shrewd and intelligent, so when her former lover tried to blackmail her, she proceeded to murder him with poison—which he foolishly drank from her very lips. Having made peace with the end of her life, she still raged against being unable to take the riches she’d worked so hard to attain. Thus, before she died, she swallowed her the gemstone of her own ring so that no passerby would steal it, and no other woman would wear it after her.

Story goes (although no one can ever confirm it,) that upon reaching the afterlife, she grew so sick that she regurgitated the gemstone at the gates of hell.

When the stone hit the ground, it broke, and out came Eros—a demon so powerful that, even in his infant state, he sucked all the youth and beauty from his carrier. It shouldn’t surprise anyone, then, that Eros enjoys nothing more than to cause mischief by playing with the hearts of men. That, and wearing shiny things (and maybe receiving compliments).

Most humans know better than to call on Eros.

But Viktor Nikiforov has never been like most humans.

.

The Demon Yuuri prides himself in having been at the forefront of every major battle over love and beauty in history. He has brought down entire empires, once even started a war over a kiss—and yet he has never had the pleasure of being summoned by a warrior (or schemer) worthy of his talents. Naturally, then, he pays great interest to the activities of Viktor Nikiforov, a young knight with a promising future in the court of Prince Christophe of the Giacometti line. The Giacoetti line has long enjoyed prosperity in the bosoms of peace, earning Yuuri’s contempt. What good is power without a little struggle?

Naturally, then, he sends a very clear message to all demons that Nikiforov’s beckoning circle is off limits. If Nikiforov seeks a war to end all wars, power to sate any man, and wealth beyond the comprehension of the human mind, Yuuri will be the one to give it to him. He will.

“You must stop your childish insistence, Yuuri,” Celestino chides him, still scribbling rapidly. “I shall send Jean. He’s well-suited to this kind of mischief. A few severed heads, a little rebellion, and all will be as it should again.”

“But I have claimed him. His desires are perfectly aligned with my talents. Who else can boast my accomplishments?” Yuuri scoffs, pouting. And, surely, his accomplishments _should _count for something. Yuuri has brought great glory to his profession. “Oh, please send me, Celestino. Please.”

“To do what?”

“To do what is needed to change the course of history, of course!”

“And that is precisely why I should send Jean,” Celestino points with a pen. Yuuri tries to school his face into something less insulted and more pensive. Jean-Jacques is impulsive and self-absorbed, seeking glory through minor mischief. He has none of the finesse Yuuri brings to the sport. “He would not confuse a spoiled knight’s interest in a little mischief over minor heartache for a wish to re-write history, as you have, Yuuri. Why would we even want to change history? – We’re demons, and if I say so myself, the 2000s have gone to veritable hell—a real treat.”

Yuuri sighs, inching to sit on top of Celestino’s desk. He crosses his legs, letting his hands smooth over the length of his thighs: “But just think how much worse things could be with a little more of my influence.”

“You’re speaking with your stomach instead of your mind,” Celestino reminds him, not once bothering to look at him.

“I admit he does look all kinds of delicious, but I really am thinking of our glory, Celestino. Believe that.”

Celestino sighs, tired as he peers up at his priced pupil: “You will not stop badgering me about it until you get your way, will you?”

Yuuri grins, the small, delicate dark wings on his back flapping wildly in happiness, “Of course not.”

.

Rumor has it that a minor princess in court fell with child at the hands of a lowly stable hand. Although their love was pure, their romance was ripe with impertinence to the divisions set by rank and breeding. Yet, she kept her pregnancy quiet, until she could no longer hide her protruding stomach. Despite her father’s insistence, she did not betray her lover’s name, plotting in secret their reunion and departure to the lands beyond the mountains. This was not to be, however, as her father interrupted the couple in the middle of stealing a horse. So it was that, upon finding his daughter both disgraced and by a servant, the nobleman besieged the King with his requests that his daughter’s former lover be sentenced to death.

It is said that the shock of having her lover’s head delivered to her sent the princess into an early birth, ultimately killing her in the process. And, her father wanting nothing to do with the child, sent him away to be raised by monks. The child was quickly adopted by a family of good name in a foreign court, whose wife’s barren status needed to be kept a secret.

The child was strong and gentle. He was beloved by his parents. He was doted on even by the Majesties of his new home. So beloved was he, that it is said he was never denied anything.

Maybe that’s why Viktor Nikiforov turned to a demon the day he was finally told no.

.

"To receive something, you must first give something," Phichit explains to Viktor plainly, pulling dandelions from the garden. Viktor watches him pensively before turning to the bush of wild blue roses and reaching for the dagger hanging from his belt. He expertly strips the bush of its gifts, taking great care to avoid the thorns. "How savage," Phichit sniffs, but Viktor knows there's no bite to his tone. He's probably angrier he didn't think of it himself. "What did Lady Mila ever do to you that you decimate her favorite roses?"

Lady Mila has done much to offend Viktor, not the least of which involves accepting the marriageable hand of Prince Christophe. It's only natural her roses should suffer. 

"You don't think it will work all the better if the offering is beautiful?"

"Beauty is not necessary for what you're asking," Phichit smirks. "You want a bloodthirsty demon, don't you? What good is a beautiful demon to you?"

"I meant that the offering might then be considered more attractive," Viktor explains, cursing under his breath when he snags his finger with a thorn. He watches as a drop of blood slides over a petal. 

"Demons are attracted to themselves, and themselves alone," Phichit chides him. “Give beauty, get beauty. Give blood, get blood.”

"So, what will dandelions get you, then?"

"A nice cup of tea," Phichit chuckles. "Not everything is about the supernatural in my life. Sometimes, I just enjoy a nice cup of tea during rainy season." 

"So, what should I offer then?"

Phichit shrugs, "that's for you to decide."

"Well, if you really are intent on being no help, then don't offer advice," Viktor huffs, storming off. His gold chain mail jingles as he walks into the distance. 

.

The story of the Knight and the Demon is not often told. It is not a polite story to be shared with friends. It is neither a story fit for children, for it is the kind derived from the warped nightmares of adults. Perhaps if it _was_ to be made fit for children, the story would go something like this: A Knight once accidentally summoned a Demon so beautiful that he mistook him for an angel. The Demon, seeing that the Knight was pure and kind, sought to corrupt him and lied, but, through time, the love of the Knight reformed him—and so both lived their lives together, in love and happiness, having found light in darkness. And so, they lived happily ever after.

That is not how _this_ story goes.

.

Viktor had always known that the day would come when Prince Christophe would marry and he would be relegated to the sidelines of court to watch over his liege’s safety and prosperity. Considering Viktor loves his sovereign beyond the constraints of obligation into the realm of _real _emotion, he doesn’t mind the latter so much as he does the former.

The idea of Prince Christophe marrying sends Viktor’s stomach into knots. The taste of nausea stays embedded on the tip of his tongue. It’s no wonder, then, that Viktor would easily fall prey to his baser instincts—low enough to consort with demons. Yet, consorting with demons is difficult. It takes a skill that Viktor does not possess.

He reads over the scroll again before taking a long swig of mead. Viktor has drawn the pentagram as requested. His offering is a bouquet of blue flowers, strong drink, and a dagger. A bandage around his palm still inks dark brown as he keeps his hand fisted. Thorn-less roses had seemed unlikely to attract anything strong enough for his needs. According to the writings of the ancients—and Phichit—Viktor has done everything right, down to the circle of blessed salt and holy water that surrounds him for safety.

After another half hour, Viktor is considering a hasty retreat when the flowers first begin to flitter.

He sits up in anticipation, eyes wide as he watches the dagger shake against the ground. Eventually, the cork of the bottle pops open and the liquid swirls on the ground, much like a small funnel that takes stray blue petals for a spin. It takes shape slowly, curves twisting like blue flames.

“Rejoice, mortal! — for you have summoned a veritable marvel!” A shadow shaped much like a man announces, arms raised high to the ceiling. When it turns, Viktor feels his breath catch in his throat. “For I am the unforgettable, the one, the _only_ Yuuri.”

“I was trying to summon a demon.” Something this _beautiful_ could not be a demon. Viktor feels sick and half-drunk as he scoffs, angry at himself, “What’s a Yuuri?” 

The creature stretches, wearing such little clothing and of a material so much like leather, that Viktor doesn’t know where his eyes should settle. He keeps his eyes settled on a clothed hip for modesty and respect, watching as the man crawls over the pentagram, right over the circle of salt until his face is right near Viktor’s own. Their breaths comingle for a minute.

“Are you a demon?”

“Yes, surely. I’m your personal demon, of course.”

Dark amber eyes flitter down to Viktor’s bloody hand, and he smiles, looking pleased as he unties the knot, “Why, Viktor, this is an unexpected but thoroughly enjoyable surprise. Yes, of course, I accept. I mean, naturally I accept being here, but this—this is so unexpected!”

“Accept what?” Viktor blinks, watching as the cut on his palm disappears the moment Yuuri’s hand grasps his own. It’s a surprise that he feels nothing as it happens, just a sense of warmth settles in his chest and weight down to his stomach.

“Your offer to stay by your side for eternity,” Yuuri groans, happy as he lets his knee settle between Viktor’s thighs. He smells as intoxicating as the flowers in Viktor’s offering bouquet. His hair is so dark that Viktor imagines he has the very night sky draped over his head. Yuuri lets his arms wrap around Viktor’s neck, letting the tips of their noses touch. “I am very flattered. Very few people understand how attractive a human sacrifice can be.”

“I—what?”

Yuuri blinks, eyes big and doe-like, so unlike the demons in the books and scrolls Viktor has read, “is that not your blood on the roses?”

Viktor blanches. He feels the stupor of his previous drunken fog slide away rapidly. How could he have been so foolish as to forget to wash the roses before offering them to a demon? He realizes, then, too, that the salt and holy water has done nothing to deter Yuuri.

“That kind of stuff has more of an effect on a lower ranked demon, but me?” Yuuri moves from sitting over Viktor’s lap to stretching over it, his torso lifting like an arabesque over Viktor’s legs. A soft hand brushes over Viktor’s jaw, and Viktor feels his whole body overcome with frost. It’s a strange juxtaposition to feel the coolness of Yuuri’s skin against his own, even as the demon’s gaze burns fire over him. “Oh, oh, darling, I’m _special_. So very special. A marvel. The type alchemists wish they could keep and study, but I don’t have time for the simple-minded, whose only ambition is but to live forever with no motivation to actually see that nothing is as precious and delicious as it is without the concept of _loss _and inevitability of the end!”

“You’re much more catlike than I expected,” Viktor murmurs. He almost wishes he hadn’t said anything when he feels a purr by his hip. A black cat stares at him studiously, rubbing his flank against Viktor’s side.

“I can take all types of shapes,” Yuuri explains, letting his tail wrap around Viktor’s arm. “I have all types of tricks.”

Viktor jumps, finding a cat trying to burrow in the crook between his shoulder and neck.

“W—why have _you_ come to me? - Being such a marvel, and all.”

The cat simply presses a little tongue against his cheek. It feels rough against Viktor's skin, like a million daggers pressing a kiss on his cheek. 

“Because you have such delicious ambition, Viktor,” Yuuri explains, purring again. “It’s a very attractive quality. And you offered me your very soul! How could I deny so tempting an offer? — Oh, come now, darling, I know exactly what you’re thinking.” 

“You can read my mind?”

The cat jumps off his shoulder, pawing on the ground as it slowly morphs back into a man. With his back exposed, Viktor can finally see the gossamer like dark wings and he aches to touch them out of curiosity. Yuuri ignores him, keeping his ass propped as he stretches out his arms and neck.

“No, but you’re thinking the same as all the ones before: What could _this_ demon possibly provide? That, and like all the others, you’re staring at my ass.”

Viktor gulps hard, averting his eyes to the summoning circle again.

Yuuri crawls behind him, pressing against Viktor’s back so he can rest his chin on Viktor’s shoulder and take a sneaky whiff of his hair: “Darling, staring is perfectly fine. So is touching, if you’re so inclined, although considering your reasons for summoning me, perhaps it is not. But I have never known humans to be consistent, so I suppose eventually your motives may change as well. Not to be the jealous type, but you could honestly do much, much better than a princeling.”

“I didn’t think anything,” Viktor lies, biting his bottom lip. He wonders if his emotions are, in fact, so transparent. The hurt and anger he feels are but the tip of an iceberg of desire. Viktor has always wanted _more, _felt it like a hankering in his bones. He deserves more. He has helped build this kingdom with sweat, blood, and tears, much more than Prince Christophe and his family, and certainly more than Princess Mila, who has only come to enjoy the fruits of his labor. And after all of his work and love and devotion, how had the Crown repaid him? - With peace. And a medal. A few bits of land. Some money. Not enough to appease the monster rumbling under Viktor's chest. Yuuri seems to sense the same, his delicate fingers running over Viktor's sternum, tapping with the same beat as his heart. 

“You’re thinking that you have no need for a beautiful demon,” Yuuri parrots back, much like Phichit said that same afternoon. Viktor feels his stomach dip with dread. “What good will I be to you in your quest for power and war? Oh, Viktor, but you do not know that every great war and tragic romance and unmitigated disaster in history has had some little bit of me in it. For me, men and women have done a great many things, some quite silly, others quite tragic, but all thoroughly disastrous.”

“How so?” Viktor turns his face at an angle and his eyes catch Yuuri’s own. 

Yuuri smiles, teeth so white and lips so pink and plump that Viktor feels his heart hammer inside his ribcage.

“It’s because humans are veritably weak and _stupid _at the sight of beauty,” Yuuri whispers, amused as he dips his head down to brush his lips against Viktor. "But not you, darling. I will make sure of it. I will make sure you are my greatest work yet. Rest assured, darling, eternity is a long time, but while you live, I'll make it worth your while."

"And when I die?"

Yuuri shrugs, "Well, we have quite a while before that happens, surely. But I am certain your soul will be absolutely _delicious."_

And Viktor realizes that, while he’d been prepared to fall, he hadn’t considered the depth in much detail.


End file.
